They Always Asked Why
by Meowiegirl
Summary: Harry used to be the model for every young wizard. Now, he's in his twenties, a killer of those he loves. And everyone wants to know why. SiriusRemus, mentioned HarryGinny and RonHermione.


They Always Asked Why  
  


A/N: Well, here it is. A story where Harry goes nuts and kills everyone he loves. I'm warning die-hard Harry fans to step away now- he's the villain in this story. Also, there is slash (Sirius and Remus) so be warned. I don't own Harry Potter.  
  


Now, on to the story.  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  


"Harry! No!"  
  


The scream came from Remus Lupin, former professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. It was an anguished scream, and pained; how often was it that the boy you treated as a son killed your soulmate in front of your eyes?  
  


'I don't want to live anymore,' Remus thought weakly, as Sirius Black fell to the ground in front of him, dying.  
  


Remus ran to Sirius' side and cradled the taller man's head in his arms. Not even bothering to fight back the tears that gathered in his large golden eyes, Remus bent his head down to Sirius'.  
  


"Siri?," he whispered.  
  


The reply was faint and ragged breathing, and then a whispered, "Rem...? I'm sorry. Love...you."  
  


After that, he lay motionless in Remus' arms, dead.  
  


"I hope you're proud, Harry," Remus murmured coldly. "I hope you're proud."  
  


The injustice of it all was simply unbearable. After being rescued from behind the Veil four years ago in Harry's sixth year, Sirius was able to enjoy the first real few years of happiness that he'd ever had, living with Remus, riding his motorcycle, and being able to really be a father figure to Harry, albeit a slightly irresponsible one. And now, after beating impossible odds by escaping Azkaban, being saved from the Veil, and just surviving in general, he had been killed by his twenty year old godson and a Cruciatus curse.  
  


"Actually Remus, I am quite happy," Harry smirked.  
  


Tears once again welled up in Remus' eyes. He raked a hand through his now almost entirely grey hair (even though he was only forty) and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hands. Harry just stood there, staring down dispassionately at his former professor.  
  


"How could you have killed Siri?," Remus asked in his tired, sad voice which cracked at his little pet name for Sirius. "We loved each other. Don't you feel any remorse?"  
  


Harry felt no remorse at all. He never felt remorse after he'd killed, and he'd been killing wizards for the past two years. All wizards he knew. The victims had blamed Voldemort, even now, when Voldemort was defeated.  
  


"He's still got a hold on Harry." That's what they'd think as they died.  
  


The first one that Harry killed was Ginny, whom he'd married the day after she graduated. Years later, it would still be a mystery as to what started it off. Not even Harry himself knew, really.  
  


And no-one knew it was Harry who was doing this, to his knowledge, either. All part of the thrill.   
  


Remus' keening brought him back to the present. The man lay sprawled across Sirius' body, trying desperately to wake the black-haired man up.  
  


"Face it, he's dead," Harry spat.  
  


"No he's not," Remus smiled shakily. "He's sleeping, that's all!"  
  


He put his head near his love's mouth, listening for breathing, and his face fell when he heard nothing.  
  


"Please wake up," he pleaded quietly. "Please, Sirius, wake up. Not again. You can't leave me again."  
  


Harry shook his head in disgust. Remus had broken already, it seemed, but wait- Yes, the look of slight lunacy was leaving his face now, only to be replaced by a frightening sadness.  
  


"He is dead," Remus whispered.  
  


"How long did it take you to figure that out?," Harry laughed rudely.  
  


"You hate me, don't you," Remus sighed. "What did I do? What did he do?"   
  


"I'm sorry it had to come to this," Harry said insincerely, laughing slightly. "But enough chatting. Let's get down to business now, Remus."  
  


Harry pulled his wand out of the pocket of his robes.   
  


Remus curled up into a ball, trying to shield himself from the curse he knew was coming.   
  


"That's just sad," Harry smirked. "You can't protect yourself that way."  
  
  
  
Remus' sad face turned into something that might have been a smile.  
  


"Harry, you should know better than to try to kill me like that. Have you forgotten that I used to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?," Remus said, shaking his head softly. "I'm sorry, my boy. Petrificus totalus!"  
  


The spell worked. Harry's arms and legs snapped together, and Remus heaved a sigh of relief. But that sigh soon turned into a terrified gasp. Harry was fighting the spell, and at this rate, he would be free in seconds.  
  


Harry got up, growling, and picked up his wand again.   
  


Remus moved over to Sirius, thinking, 'If I die, I will die by my soulmate's side.'  
  


But he asked, "Why?"  
  


They had all asked why- Ginny, Neville, Sirius, and all of the others.   
  


Harry raised his wand and screamed, "CRUCIO!"  
  


Remus was thrown into the wall of the room with the force of the spell, and he slumped to the ground, trying not to cry out in pain. He heard something crack loudly, and his chest hurt enough to make him want death. How many ribs had he broken? It felt as if knives were cutting at every centimeter of his body, and they were burning knives. He knew that the only thing he could do to keep from going mad would be to go deep into his memories.  
  


***  
  


It was four years ago, and Sirius had just been rescued from behind the veil. He was pale, shaky, and traumatized, but that would go away with time. He was changed; Remus had noticed this.  
  


'What if he no longer loves me?,' Remus thought, but quickly banished the thought from his mind, and went to sit in a chair beside Sirius, who was lying down on the couch at Number 12, Grimmauld Place.  
  


"Rem?," Sirius asked faintly.  
  


"What is it?," Remus asked gently.  
  


"Do you still love me?"  
  


"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"  
  


"You thought I was dead."  
  


"But I kept trying to find out how to save you. Love doesn't die with the body."  
  


"Okay then."  
  


With that, Sirius took Remus' hand in his own and kissed it softly. Remus had been so happy that day and every day that followed. He'd finally found a place in life, and someone who loved him.  
  


The familiar voice of his tormentor brought Remus back to the present, back to the Cruciatus curse that had been placed on him, and back to the reality that Sirius was dead forever.  
  


"You won't live much longer," Harry assured him. "An hour if I'm feeling kind."  
  


Remus didn't mind. There was nothing to live for now, and death just seemed like a merciful end to his suffering. As he spasmed from the pain, the broken ribs seemed to join in the concert of agony that was going on within his body. Remus did the only thing he could: he passed out of the real world, and into a world of his dreams.  
  


Remus' dreams were all of Sirius and the time they had spent together. Their first meeting at Hogwarts, their first date, and everything after that. One dream was of earlier that day; it was Sirius' birthday.  
  


'Ironic,' thought Remus, 'that my poor Siri should be killed on his birthday.'  
  


Harry woke Remus up. He hadn't lifted the Cruciatus curse yet, and Remus was still being tossed around, as limp as a rag doll. Tears rolled down the older man's face.  
  


"Please," he whispered to Harry, "kill me. I want to die."  
  


Remus crawled over to Sirius' body and laid down next to it, snuggling up to the dead man like they were both asleep in their bed. He knew that even if Harry did not keep the curse up, he would live five minutes more at the most, and he wanted to die by the man that he'd loved since they went to Hogwarts together.  
  


'Five minutes. That's the most time I have in this world, and I'm not even apologizing to all of the people whose lives I ruined.' Remus contemplated this thought for a few seconds, and then began. 'I'm sorry, Severus, James, Lily....'  
  


Harry rolled his eyes at the sight of his former professor clinging to Sirius' body like that, with his eyes tightly closed. What was he trying to do? Drown out reality?  
  


'And most of all, I'm sorry Sirius. I love you,' Remus thought.   
  


The apologies had only taken three minutes. Remus still had about two in the living world, and he was not afraid of death. He didn't know what would happen to him, but he knew that Sirius would be waiting for him, waiting to hold him in his arms and kiss him again. James and Lily would be there too, and all of the witches and wizards in the Order of the Phoenix that had died.  
  


Remus couldn't wait for the end, and his wish was granted.  
  


As the werewolf died, he smiled, and two small, crystalline tears fell from his eyes to land on the wooden floor. His world grew dark, his breathing stopped, and finally, the bodies of the two lovers lay on the floor like some morbid tableau.  
  


Harry frowned at the two men. How could they be so happy together, even in death?  
  


"I'm glad you both died like the curs that you are," Harry snarled, and he walked out of the house.  
  


Glass littered the ground outside and the front door had flown off its hinges. As Harry walked out of the house, brooding, he let his guard down.  
  


"Petrificus totalus!," came a chorus of voices- Aurors.  
  


Harry had been a perfect target; he hadn't even had time to look around. He tried to move, tried to do anything to break the spell, but it was too strong for him.  
  


A familiar freckled face came into view above Harry's rage-contorted one.  
  


"Bloody 'ell! Tonks? It's Harry!," Ron gasped; he was an Auror now.  
  


Tonks rushed over to both of them. When she saw that it really was Harry, one hand flew to her face in surprise while the other one attempted to pull Ron away.  
  


A young female Auror ('Parvati?!,' wondered Harry) came running out of the house and whispered something to Tonks and Ron. Tonks raised two bubble-gum pink, pierced eyebrows, pointed at Harry, and mouthed something that Harry couldn't catch. Ron paled.  
  


Harry didn't get a chance to see much more. He was carted off to the Ministry of Magic and questioned later that night. He confessed to everything. He would have even if they hadn't used Veritaserum on him- a small chorus of familiar but dead voices was beginning to start up in his head, all asking the same question:  
  


"Why?"  
  


He was going mad, and he knew it. At his trial, he was sentenced to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban. Harry would have cared once, but now he just stared impassively with dull green eyes at the spectators.  
  
  
  
Ron came to see Harry in his holding cell before the Boy Who Lived went to Azkaban.  
  


"You killed Ginny," Ron sighed.  
  


Harry nodded, gave a small smile as he cherished the memory. "My first kill. My first love, as well."  
  


Ron stared hard at his friend, no, the stranger that had taken over his friend's body.  
  


Harry continued. "She was beautiful, and so pale. We have a child together, you know."  
  


Ron nodded slowly. Did Harry know that the child was living with Ron and Hermione now?  
  


"James Potter, that's his name." Harry took a small Muggle photo of his son out of his pocket.  
  


James didn't know who his real parents were. He was two years old; far too young to deal with such a tragedy.  
  


"Ginny cried when I killed her," Harry muttered to himself.  
  


Ron felt tears in his eyes that were going to spill down his cheeks at any moment. "Goodbye, Harry."  
  


Harry looked up and frowned at his friend. "'Bye."  
  


Ron left the room quickly. He felt sick and sad.   
  


***  
  


Ten years later, Harry paced the floor of his cell.  
  


"Why?," asked Sirius.  
  


"Yes, Harry, I'd like to know too." Neville.  
  


"I'll try to understand. So will Sirius," Remus said, disappointment in his voice.  
  


"ALL OF YOU! SHUT UP, WILL YOU?! I can't bloody TAKE this any bloody more!," Harry raved.  
  


He was a haunted man, the Boy Who Lived and the Boy Who Killed. The voices never left him alone now. His victims had their revenge, as long as they asked the one question that Harry himself wondered: Why?  
  


And they kept asking why until the day that he died mad.  
  


______________________________________________________________________________  
  


That's the end. Please review on your way out!  



End file.
